1 Litre of Tears
by yukisana
Summary: A boy must not cry. Yet Yukimura could not help but let his tears flow when he was defeated for the first time. He was shattered, but there was someone who will always make him whole again. ALPHA PAIR
1. Downfall of the Divinity

**A Prince of Tennis fanfic.  
SanaYuki pairing.**

**Rating:** T - I'll write something more _romantic_ when I have time.

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi.

**Author's note:** I really don't know what inspired me to write this. However, the idea of success in the story is very much based on my view and Yukimura's feelings are written based on some personal experiences, so I was really into writing this. Anyway, I hope you don't see my view on Yukimura as pity, because I believe that he is still the BEST tennis player in the PoT world and he is more mature in terms of thinking and appreciation of tennis and life than Echizen. And... Yukimura will beat Echizen next time they play. 100 sure.

Btw I suggest you read this in 3/4 or 1/2. And... review

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**Chapter.1 – Downfall of the Divinity**

Success is the result of countless failures you've done in order to attain it. It was compared to a child learning to walk. At first, he will continuously fall, until one day, he will be able to walk and run.

However, the admiration you get from being able to walk and run is considerably insignificant when compared to the glory you are showered with when you have broken the world record for the 100m sprint. Both were success, simply on different scales. The downside was, for the exponentially greater accomplishment, downfalls tend to be worse and thoroughly shattering.

Yukimura Seiichi consolidated this idea in this mind all his life. It was a vulgar analogy, one that he accepted as a fact, but one that did not matter. Tennis was his life and to lose in a match was, simply metaphorical, to lose his life. Living by this fact, Yukimura had never lost a single game. It was merely impossible to beat anyone who lived with tennis as much as him, and his opponents, panting and trembling under the supreme power of the Child of God, acknowledged so.

He lived in the upside of this theory, only acquiring the honour and magnificence without having to writhe through the falls and grief. But just as the seasons' rotation, spring did not last immortally for Yukimura. As no matter how hard you try to prolong the life of the birdsongs or the blooming orchids, the blazing heat and withering leaves will always replace spring, followed by the fierce winter. One can only live so long on the positive aspect of an idea; eventually, the mentally-crushing demise will crash down.

This prospect of losing, occasionally crossed Yukimura's mind and truthfully, he knew that one day he would be replaced at the apex. But not so soon. He had always thought of himself as an objective person, one that was able to criticize himself constructively. He was able to evaluate his abilities with a clear and unbiased mind, and with that capacity, he did everything to ensure his throne at the summit. If he needed to play a dead net cord, he would practice until he could do it with his eyes closed. If being ambidextrous was going to ensure his victory, he would use his left hand for every action until it was as good as his right. Everything he did was for a purpose and the purpose was to sit at the pinnacle of the tennis world.

Winter – symbolically described the length of time when he was trapped by his fragile body. However, his motto – you cannot know the warmth of spring without knowing the cold of winter – applied to his passionate pursue of life after his close encounter with death. Spring, on the other hand, could allegorically represent Yukimura's triumph in the field of tennis. Every match he played was purely another blossom flowering among his undefeated frame of mind; and he had yet to experience the chilling fingers of the creeping winter.

Nevertheless, the seemingly eternal spring came to an end unexpectedly at the national's final, with Echizen managing to beat the once insurmountable Rikkai buchou 6-4. Suddenly, the postponed winter consumed him and he was shattered. At the time, he had found himself smiling at the little brat, shaking hands with him, then going on to congratulate the Seigaku buchou for their victory; but deep inside, he was tore into fragments.

Afterwards, he gradually recalled the past year and clenched his fists as he saw – what some might call the calm before a storm – the signs which signalled his downfall.

The fading of spring came along with his sudden collapse and hospitalisation. He should have known then, that he was never going to be the same as before. But even then, he did not realise it and although the omen flashed before his eyes during the finals, played out by the jacket falling from his shoulders, he did not think much of it. The jacket was simply there to keep him warm and if it fell during the game, then so be it. It had nothing to do with the game.

He had continued to showcase his tennis, decimating Echizen and taking away all his senses. It was exhilarating and it aroused him to be dominant after the long, lifeless slumber in the white cage of his physically weak state. His heart pounded quickly and he felt excitement surging through his body. He decided to _play_ with Echizen a little more – his blood was pumping with awakened lust – and entered a much more aggressive play style.

But his stirred-up state was brought to a halt and thrown into chaos as Echizen smirked, and asked him if tennis was fun. After that, everything seemed to have gone by like a blur. Before long, the legendary Yukimura Seiichi, had lost his first ever match, demolished and pulverized.

He had tried to convince himself that – like the motto he lived by – he would be more satisfied with future victories because of this loss, just as his appreciation for life increased dramatically after his return from the white hell of Kanai General Hospital. But he could not. Every time he held his racquet, his hands would tremble and flashbacks of the match would play in his mind like a video rewinding at double the speed it should be.

He had never thought much of those fancy counters that Fuji Syuusuke used or the flashy acrobatics Kikumaru Eiji used. Tennis in its core was a ridiculously straightforward game. The objective was to hit the ball back to a spot where your opponent cannot return it. He had stood by this objective and had claimed victory in all his matches by this objective. Yet now, the objective seemed to be nothing but a mere, beautiful mirage; for Echizen had won against him with the fanciest tennis possible – Ten'imuhou no Kiwami. Everything he had once followed, everything that he had once lived by, everything he had once believed in, was now crushed, crumbled and shattered.

Yukimura Seiichi, a fourteen-year-old boy with an ambitious aspiration, had been annihilated under the precise dreams he had strived to achieve for. It wasn't Echizen Ryoma who had defeated him. It was his unacceptance for losing which was plunging him downwards, towards the abyss of desolation.

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Please review.


	2. Supremacy of the Defeated

**A Prince of Tennis fanfic.  
SanaYuki pairing.**

**Rating:** T - This chapter contains slight violence, which I'm sure everyone would be accustomed to anyway...

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi.

**Author's note:** This chapter was written at the Athletics Carnival, where I sat lazily, like a loner, watching people running. (I was sick, though...) Anyway, according to my beta-reader, this chapter is really crap, so I haven't bothered letting her check for any mistakes after the time she scanned through it. So, I'm sorry if this is below your expectations. I did try and make it slightly better. And if there are any grammatical mistakes or sentence structural mistakes, feel free to point them out. I don't mind, as long as it's not a flame.

Once again, I suggest you read this in 3/4 or 1/2. And... review

**Edit:** Ok... I reuploaded this chapter again, because thanks to the very quick reviews I got, I am once again motivated to write good fics. So now, this is the edited version, it should be slightly better with heaps less grammatical mistakes. Hope you enjoy this!!

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**Chapter.2 – Supremacy of the Defeated**

The cheering echoed around the stadium with excitement as Rokkaku, Shitenhouji and all of Seigaku's previous rivals (with the exception of Hyoutei and Rikkai) surrounded the champions, congratulating them. Meanwhile, Rikkai stood aside with their once undefeated captain. They were silent, watching quietly as Yukimura placed his racquet into his bag and then walking back on centre court, where his team was gathered soundlessly. "It seems that Rikkai isn't very popular." Yukimura commented with a light hearted smile. The rest of the team managed to return the smile slightly awkwardly, but could not help but realise the sorrow that stained Yukimura's eyes.

"Now, for the punishment." Yukimura's voice was suddenly no longer gentle. His icy whisper cut through the noisy celebration without, muting the hyperactivity. "Niou." Yukimura called out softly, his voice barely audible even though the energetic screaming and shouting had stopped. Niou took a few steps forward until he stood in front of his captain. He quavered uncontrollably with fear, but his head was held high as his eyes looked directly into Yukimura's. "Should you be punished?" The chilly voice demanded.

"Yes, Yukimura-buchou." Niou answered firmly, although the terror in his voice was evident. The rest of the school teams stood still as they witnessed, unbelievingly, the consequences Niou was faced with, simply because of his loss against Fuji Syuusuke. They held their breath as Yukimura stepped behind Niou. Taking Yukimura's place, Sanada stared down at the silver-haired boy. A sharp crack resonated through the tense air, and there was a painful gasp followed by a heavy thump as Niou crashed onto the ground.

"Losing is not acceptable!" Yukimura shouted. "Stand up!"

Niou submissively followed his captain's orders, but after a moment, he collided onto the ground for the second time. Sanada's handprints were a sickly crimson against his pallid skin.

"A loss cannot be forgiven!" Yukimura yelled again, in sync with Sanada's palm. The hand ran across Niou's face for the third time and the overwhelming force plummeted Niou's body towards the ground once more. He was continuously knocked down, each time with a new hand shaped marking.

This torturous course of action unfolded horrifyingly in front of the other teams. The myth of the Rikkai reign of terror was now confirmed right before their eyes. The persecution continued on, until Niou's pale skin deepened to a bruised purple and his feet no longer able to support his weight.

Oishi stepped towards the injured trickster sympathetically. But Tezuka's hand pulled him back when Yukimura turned his unmoving glare towards the Seigaku fukubuchou. The Rikkai captain then bent down after Oishi's retreat, pulling Niou up by the collars with a brutal swiftness. "Do you understand your mistake?" Yukimura whispered, his voice as impassive as a cold blooded murderer.

"Stop it!" Oishi moved away from Tezuka and stepped out of the crowd, no longer able to contain himself. The inhumane words were simply too much for him. "Why are you treating him like that?! It was just a match!"

Yukimura frowned, and a scowl began to replace his indifference expression as he fixedly gazed at Oishi. He parted his lips as if to explain (although the other teams stepped back as if he was going to breathe fire upon them), but Niou was quick to defend his captain and vice-captain's actions. "No... I deserved to be punished," Niou murmured in between coughs. "I lost and I deserve this." A contented smile lit up Niou's swollen face as a shocked expression haunted Oishi's.

Yukimura turned his attention back to his team. "Next, Marui." Once again, his dispassionate voice perturbed those that stood in the stadium. Marui stepped up without protest and the same macabre ritual replayed, followed by Jackal annihilated by Sanada's powerful blows. Everyone who perceived the obedience, of which the Rikkai regulars submitted to their captain and vice-captain, was shocked. But even more so, by the supreme power in which Yukimura and Sanada were able to perform such bloodcurdling penalties.

Their actions were petrifying. Their personas were petrifying. _They_ were petrifying.

Then after what seemed like eternality, everyone sighed in relief when Yukimura finally stopped calling out names. They all turned away, once they recovered from the disbelief, to leave the stadium and the fearsome sensation the Rikkai leaders were displaying.

But the momentary tranquillity was violated by a sudden shriek, identified to be Kirihara Akaya's. "Fukubuchou, NO!" Everyone who was turning away spun around abruptly and their eyes, once again, widened with absolute incredulity – Yukimura was standing in front of Sanada, head tilted slightly upwards with resolve gleaming in his eyes.

"Be quiet, Akaya." Yukimura said, his voice devoid of feelings. "What rights do I have to make rules, if I don't obey them myself?" The unsettling air returned instantaneously – in ten folds – as everyone's eyes settled apprehensively on Rikkai's captain and vice-captain.

In a flash, Sanada's raised hand had struck down his captain rapidly and forcefully. But Yukimura rose from the ground the instant he hit it, as if he had felt no pain at all. "You're finding this abhorrent, aren't you?" Yukimura said mockingly towards his shaken audience. He turned back to Sanada again, and nodded. Sanada's fist landed on Yukimura again and the Rikkai captain collapsed towards the ground, his porcelain skin now vermilion.

After two more heavy blows, Sanada finally shook his head. "Enough, Yukimura."

But Yukimura shook his head as well. "My loss is inexcusable." He glared at his vice-captain, as if daring Sanada to voice another complaint. Sanada studied his usually serene captain and sighed silently. He could comprehend now, the extremity in Yukimura's unacceptability in his loss. He understood that his captain was vehemently trying to make up for his failure (which consequently led to Rikkai's termination from the throne of the champions) and his incapability for him to acknowledge this defeat was allowing him to act irrationally. He didn't care what he did – as long as it could unload some of the burdens his heart was carrying – even if it meant being knocked unconscious by Sanada's fists.

Sanada blinked and hesitated. However, his respect for his captain's command overruled his instincts to care for his friend's wellbeing. His fist landed directly on its target and he felt a stinging soreness as Yukimura stayed on the ground, coughing and wiping blood from the corners of his mouth. Sanada bit his lips, and as gently as he could, pulled Yukimura up. He was sure Yukimura was going to scold him for providing unwanted help, but he took the risk, guessing (rightly) that Yukimura would no longer have the strength to reprimand him in any case.

Kirihara handed his captain his water bottle, in which Yukimura took a generous sip. "Echizen-kun, you have reached the pinnacle," Yukimura spoke again finally, after a long moment of uncomfortable silence, "but for me, the only limit is the sky." Yukimura took another sip of water and brushed Sanada off. "Next time, I will destroy you." His voice was hard and distant and the tone of it suggested he meant nothing but seriousness. It was deprived of emotions; not a hint of lament or distress remaining.

Yukimura picked up his bag and exited the stadium with his loyal team behind him, who was throwing challenging glances at their rivals as they departed. Hope burned in their hearts once again. Because they knew if Yukimura made a promise, he will always deliver it. If he said he was going to lead Rikkai to their next national's victory, then he would.

The rest of the teams stared in stricken trepidation, as the aura of the Rikkai kings glowed ferociously, pledging to take the next championship. Even Seigaku, the winner of this year's tournament, could no longer feel anything except for perturbation and dread.

"Since the interschool tournament is over, I will allow a one week _recovery period_. However, I still expect each and every one of you to practice during this break. There are still competitions this year and we have to keep working for next year." Yukimura said when they were outside of the stadium, away from the other teams. "Akaya, work hard. You have to lead the team to victory next year, understand?" Yukimura gazed at his kouhai, who nodded earnestly. A smile, belonging to Yukimura's gentler self, appeared on his face as he went on to congratulate the regulars who had won their matches and dismissed them after that.

The Rikkai regulars stood together for a moment longer, bathing under the warm, setting sun, which perhaps sardonically represented Rikkai's downfall at the nationals.

However, no matter how many times the sun sinks below the horizon, it will always rise again, shining gloriously the next day. Right now, dusk has arrived for the Rikkai kings. But it is only a short-lived twilight, because when dawn comes again, it will be eternal.

Yukimura's confident declaration of victory – metaphorically the break of daylight – at next year's tournament was believed whole-heartedly by his team mates and rivals. But somehow – not as a vice-captain, but as a friend – Sanada doubted the strength of will behind those strong words.

He slowly trailed behind Yukimura as they left the arena. Now that they were alone, Sanada could feel, almost see the overwhelming hand of despair, pressing down and suffocating Yukimura. The shell that was containing his tormented soul had cracked. And almost as if it were happening to himself, he could feel Yukimura's world crashing down around him.

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Please review. 


	3. Tears of the Angel

**A Prince of Tennis fanfic.  
SanaYuki pairing.**

**Rating:** T - A lot of crying and feverish talks

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi.

**Author's note:** Finally, the third chapter!! I am so happy to finally be able to upload this!! I think Yukimura is kinda... wimpy? in this chapter, but then, not really. Well, I would be sad like him too if I was him. But for those who are sad because of his slightly tears-explosive personality in this chapter, the next one is gonna be his strong and hard self again. So... hope you enjoy this chapter! Today is the 21st, one month after Sanada's birthday. And I think... not sure, it's been a month since the last chapter...

Once again, I suggest you read this in 3/4 or 1/2. This feature centers the text so its not spread out across the page... and as BloodXBlade pointed out, I should tell you where it is, since she didn't know... Look at the top of the fanfic and to the right hand side. There should be stuff like A_A**A**_ and then 1/2 and 3/4... something like that. Press on them!!

And... reviews please

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**Chapter.3 - Tears of the Angel**

Sanada kept a careful distance behind his captain as they walked towards the bus stop. Yukimura had not spoken, had not even looked at him after they departed with the rest of the team, who decided they would stay in Tokyo for the night. The team was in high spirits despite their lost, due to Yukimura's promise of victory in the next tournament. However, Sanada thought differently as he watched Yukimura; his captain was moving robotically, every movement stiff and forced. And, strangely, Sanada had this image of Yukimura as a string puppet, supported only by invisible threads. Threads, that seemed about to snap.

Yukimura suddenly halted in his steps and sat down on a bench next to the sidewalk. He stared emptily into the orange sky, his lips parted slightly in a frown. Sanada settled beside him without a word, waiting and wondering why his captain had stopped. Perhaps he was tired from stress, Sanada thought as he stole a look at the wavy-haired boy.

To Sanada's surprise, Yukimura had his face buried in his hands and his shoulders were heaving up and down in exaggerated motions. After watching confusedly for a while, he finally realised that Yukimura was crying. Tears were dripping down his chin and his breathing was heavy as his slender frame trembled in quiet sobs.

"Yukimura..." Sanada wanted to ask him if he was all right, but somehow the words stopped at his throat and the question itself just didn't seem reasonable. It was obvious that Yukimura wasn't fine, and in truth, quite far from fine.

"No, Sanada. Don't speak." Yukimura said before Sanada had the chance to open his mouth again. His voice was shaking, and salty tears were falling uncontrollably. "Why did I lose?" He questioned, his voice edging on anger and annoyance.

Sanada assumed that it was a rhetorical question and remained silent. Watching his captain like this pained him, but at the same time, scared him to a great extent - because Yukimura never cried, not even when he was in the hospital, facing the possibility of death. Yet now, right in front of him, on a bench by the side of a footpath, Yukimura had broken down crying.

"I'm such a coward..." Yukimura muttered. "I am running from things that I couldn't control. Did you know that I cried every night while I was in the hospital? I was scared. I was scared of death and I was scared that I would lose my ability to play tennis. And I was so scared that I wouldn't be the best anymore. I avoided thinking about it, only concentrating on thoughts concerning victory. But now, I have let everyone down."

Sanada bowed his head and tugged his cap down. It was _strange_ to hear Yukimura's confessions. As he pondered over what to do next, he suddenly realised that his shirt was wet. Turning to the side, he saw that Yukimura was weeping into his shoulder, clutching his shirt tightly. Sanada sat like a stone statue while Yukimura continued to express his feelings. "Will I ever be able to climb back on top?" Yukimura said in between sobs.

"Yes, I'm sure you will." Sanada said, believing in the words firmly.

"No, I won't!" Yukimura cried harder, soaking Sanada's shirt. "I should have won. I should have! That was an easy match. I was winning 4-0! How did I lose my serving matches after that?"

"Yukimura... don't blame yourself, your body was tired from your hospitalisation." Sanada said quietly.

"Because I was weak...? No, that's no excuse. I stuffed up and I made our team lose. I should have won easily. I should have beaten that brat to a pulp. If only I had decimated him earlier, then Rikkai would still be the champions, the kings! Why didn't I? Why am I so useless?" Yukimura's tears had stopped, but he railed on. "I promised that we would win the nationals together!"

"Yukimura, we will do it next year." Sanada replied softly, but Yukimura didn't even seem to hear him.

"Why did I have to collapse last winter? Why was my body so weak? Why couldn't I beat him faster? I could beat anyone, Tezuka, Atobe, anyone you can name! If Tezuka can beat Echizen, why couldn't I? Was it because of that Pinnacle of Perfection?" Yukimura rambled on, paying no attention to Sanada at all. Yukimura wasn't talking to him, Sanada realised; he was just playing it all out verbally for himself. "The aim of tennis is to hit the ball back to somewhere your opponent can't return that, and I did exactly that. Where did I go wrong? How can I be beaten by such superficial, artificial, fake, ridiculous..."

"Stop it!" Sanada cried, his tone and volume finally gaining Yukimura's attention.

"What?" Yukimura glared at Sanada.

"I know it hurts, Yukimura. But I've lost before... and quite a few times as well, especially to you. And in the end, I improve because of my losses." Sanada began to reason with his captain.

But Yukimura just stared at him. "I... I..." He stammered, and after a moment, tears began streaming down his blushing cheeks. "Sanada... I... I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry... I lost... I lost..." He talked feverishly, and if Sanada hadn't held out his hands to support him, he would have collapsed towards the ground.

Sanada stared at Yukimura's overly roseate cheeks and touched his forehead. "You have a fever." He stated, slightly fearful. He could feel Yukimura's face burning up even though it was damp with cold sweat.

"Mummy, look!" A little girl and her mother walked by Sanada and Yukimura. "That nee-san is crying." Sanada followed the little girl's finger and horrifyingly, found that she was pointing to his captain. He glanced down at Yukimura as the mother ushered her daughter away, hoping that Yukimura had not heard the comment. But his worries were proven to be unnecessary, because Yukimura was curled up on the bench, his face was completely buried in Sanada's shirt.

Sanada gazed at his captain as he thought about the little girl, and flushed red when he finally understood what she had seen; They must have looked like a couple, with Sanada's arm draped protectively over Yukimura's shoulders.

"Yukimura..." Sanada whispered softly, but Yukimura was asleep, his face stained with tears, his arms wrapped around Sanada's waist as if he was scared to lose him. "Yukimura, it's going to be dark soon. We have to get back to Kanagawa." Sanada said again, but his captain had collapsed into a coma of fatigue after the downpour of emotions. Knowing that both of them would be in deep trouble if they didn't get home soon, Sanada stood up and gently placed Yukimura on his back. He pulled Yukimura's arms around his neck and began walking towards the bus stop.

Sanada stood in silence, listening to the soft rustling of autumn leaves and the shallow breathing of his captain. The momentary serenity was disrupted though, when the glaring headlights of the bus pierced through the falling night. He placed Yukimura on a seat near the back, before settling down as well, recovering his strength. "Sanada?" Beside him, Yukimura stirred and rubbed his eyes.

"We're on the bus now." Sanada said, leaning back on his seat and taking in deep breaths - Yukimura was heavier than he looked. It must be the muscles, Sanada decided.

"Thank you." Yukimura sighed.

Sanada nodded and gently took Yukimura's hand into his. Their fingers entwined and Yukimura closed his eyes as Sanada's warmth passed onto him. He leaned against Sanada and felt comfort blanketing his anxious, fluttering heart. "Don't be sad anymore," Sanada whispered into his ear, "please."

"I'll try." Yukimura said, but he could not stop the silent teardrops from sliding down his cheeks when he recalled the painful memories.

Sanada lifted Yukimura's chin and wiped it away with his fingertip. Yukimura gave Sanada a smile and looked out the window, gazing at their intertwined fingers through the reflection. Outside the comfort and warmth of the bus, chilly winds raged as the heavens began to darken itself into a sobering black.

The sky was pitch black, ornamented with dreary clouds that thickened the atmosphere of depression. The two of them walked loiteringly, their shoulders brushing against each other's as they strolled towards their homes.

It drizzled. Then, it poured. But the two boys did not quicken their paces as they trudged through the heavy rain. Yukimura's cerulean hair was no longer wavy, clinging to his cheeks in dead-straight locks. His uniform was drenched and it glued onto his skin, framing his well-toned muscles. Sanada studied his captain for a moment, evaluating on whether they should run. After all, Yukimura had a fever and it won't do him any good getting soaked from head to toe.

"Ne, Yukimura..." Sanada pondered on his choice of words as they arrived at his house. "Would you... like to come in?" He asked hesitantly, but his voice was lost in the cacophony of the rain. Yukimura gazed at Sanada questioningly, asking him to reiterate his question with his eyes. Sanada took a moment to stimulate his captain's response before repeating his question.

Yukimura answered the question with a blank stare. Sanada waited patiently, while they were hosed down with frosty droplets of rain, for his captain's response. After a few long minutes, Yukimura finally moved, lowering his head until Sanada could no longer see his face. "Why are you still so nice to me?" Yukimura sighed, his voice soft but nevertheless projected through the noise of raindrops smashing onto the ground. "Why?"

For the first time since Echizen had handed Yukimura defeat, Sanada did not worry about choosing his words carefully. "Because I care for you." He lifted Yukimura's head with his hand and looked into the sorrowful, hazel orbs. "Yukimura, you are my captain, but you are also my closest friend." Sanada told Yukimura sincerely and wrapped his arms tightly around him.

Sanada took Yukimura's hand and led him into his house. Sanada's mother quickly gave the two boys towels and hot tea to warm their bodies. Both of them sipped their tea quietly, relaxing in warm comfort. "You can use the shower first." Sanada handed Yukimura a set of dry clothes and another dry towel. Yukimura nodded and went upstairs. He was familiar with Sanada's house; he had been there several times to discuss line-ups for matches and other tennis related things.

Sanada went upstairs for his room and just as he took his dripping shirt off, his mobile phone rang. He picked up his phone and frowned when he saw the caller's ID - Yukimura. Nonetheless, Sanada answered the call - it was Yukimura's mother. After a customary polite greeting, Yukimura's mother instantly began to question her son's whereabouts. Sanada quickly explained the situation and lowered his voice - just in case Yukimura could hear from the bathroom - when he informed her about their loss at the nationals.

Yukimura's mother quickly comprehended and thanked Sanada. "I understand that Seiichi will need some time to reflect upon it. Thank you for taking care of him, Sanada-kun." Just as Sanada hung up, the door to his room was pushed open, and Yukimura walked in, his hair wavy and sleek, the reflected light of the ceiling lamp creating a halo around his head. Sanada's clothes were slightly too big for him, but did not look strange enough for Sanada to laugh.

Sanada took his turn in the shower, letting the water run down his face as his muscles relaxed under the scorching water. His skin burned with stinging pain, yet it was not enough to forget his anger for Rikkai's loss... and Yukimura's forced smile, one which was shadowed with despair.

The exact smile which he dreaded greeted him as he walked into his room. Yukimura was sitting on his bed, fidgeting with a tennis ball. After giving Sanada the smile which was obviously a façade, he turned his attention to one of the photo frames neatly placed on the bedside table. Yukimura stuffed the ball back into his bag and picked the frame up. It was a simple one, matching the rest of the room. The corner of his lips curled up mockingly as he stared at the photo mounted in the plain, silver frame. A sophomore Yukimura and Sanada were posing in the photo, beaming as they held a golden trophy and the winners' plaque respectively. He put that down and picked up the other one - it was the two of them again, but it was taken during their freshman year. They did not hold the trophy nor the plaque as they were not yet captain and vice, but nevertheless, a smug grin hung off their glowing faces as their arms draped from each other's shoulders, forming a V with their index and middle fingers.

Yukimura gazed at the photos, his eyes bright with emotion. His face contorted with pain as he fought to contain his urge to burst out crying. Victorious memories rewound, but the reminiscence of his demise followed swiftly. The unpleasant and unwelcome remembrance emphasized the fact that the Rikkai kings were a thing of the past, and that the legendary, unbeatable Child of God was no longer in existence. The reality hit hard as he compared his smiling self in the photos to the state he was presently in. And the harsh veracity shouted to him loud and clear - they were no longer unconquerable or unsurmountable, they were only human.

But Yukimura was pulled away from his stream of thoughts when Sanada flipped the photo frames downwards, hiding the pictures of their triumphant smiles. Sanada looked at his friend and muttered, "Seiichi…"

The name which was so rarely used shattered the wall Yukimura erected as the last of his defence. Tears did not fall from his eyes, but his heart pounded brutally as his emotions overflowed. The entanglement of feelings was too explosive now for them to be in his capacity to control. All he could hear was his raspy, chocked breathing, and all he could see was murky silhouettes spinning all around him in dizzying dots of light. His pride and self seemed to be all swallowed up by the abyss of desolation.

Yukimura could not understand why tears refused to flow from his eyes. Perhaps it was exhaustion. Or perhaps it was something else. Maybe he just couldn't cry anymore?

What should he do? He searched for a pair of helping hands but he couldn't feel them, couldn't see them. He could only stare forwards into the darkness and could only hear the sounds of his hopeless, silent cries. Reality was too cruel, too brutal. He tried desperately to stop thinking about the past, but when he thought of the future, his emotions crushed him yet again.

All he wanted to do was scream.

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Please review!


	4. Salvation of the Beloved

**A Prince of Tennis fanfic.  
SanaYuki pairing.**

**Rating:** T - suggestive sexual behaviour

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi.

**Author's note:** YAY! The 4th chapter... I actually finished this last week, but my beta-reader glares was so slow... can't blame her though, we had A LOT due...

Once again, I suggest you read this in 3/4 or 1/2. This feature centers the text so its not spread out across the page... Look at the top of the fanfic and to the right hand side. There should be stuff like A_A**A**_ and then 1/2 and 3/4... something like that. Press on them!!

And... reviews please

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**Chapter.4 – Salvation of the Beloved**

Yukimura sat silently, slouched with his arms supporting himself on his knees. He felt as if he could no longer bear the misery, and although tennis was his passion and life, it seemed impossible for him now. "Ne," he whispered wistfully, "maybe I should quit tennis."

Almost before he finished his sentence, he regretted it, realising that he would most probably be answered with a reprimand or long lecture. But instead, a strong pair of arms encircled him and Yukimura found himself in Sanada's embrace. Yukimura could not believe what was happening, especially since this was one of the last replies Yukimura would have expected. "Seiichi," Sanada was muttering, his warm breath tingling Yukimura's ear, "please don't quit."

Yukimura remained motionless; he did not have a reply for this. His fukubuchou was a passionate person and a man of action, but this form of passion and action was not in Yukimura's calculations at all. He thought he knew Sanada, the person he could always read like a book when they both stood on the courts, facing each other. But he was wrong.

"Sanada," Yukimura protested, trying to wriggle out of the iron-like ring around him, "I…"

"Don't quit," Sanada leaned in until he was only an inch from Yukimura's face, "promise me. Please."

Yukimura did not speak, turning his gaze from Sanada's.

"Don't be a weakling. The Yukimura Seiichi I know isn't like this," Sanada's face was flushing red, from impatience and slight anger, "why are you quitting? I lost against Echizen as well, and it was equally humiliating for me." Sanada's voice rose, "I was upset as well. On one hand, my reputation was ruined and on the other hand, the moment I visited you to tell you about this, you screamed at me. Everything that went wrong was accused at me. I stuffed up, I know, but everyone and everything just thrust the dagger deeper into the wound. Do you know how that feels? I knew perfectly well that it was my fault. But everyone just thought I was stupid or something and didn't understand! No one understood. Not ever you, Seiichi!"

Yukimura lowered his head, waiting for Sanada to finish his explosion of suppressed thoughts. "Genichirou," his mouth felt dry as he struggled for words, "I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to. I'm sorry…"

"No. I'm sorry for shouting. "Sanada closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calming himself.

"But you know, it was my first match since last winter and I was so eager to demonstrate my skills. I wanted to show everyone that I could still win even after the long period of hospitalisation. Everyone was beginning to doubt me, doubt my abilities – I simply wanted to demonstrate my level of play. But of course, it was just wishful thinking. In the end, I couldn't win and prove my point," Yukimura paused, "Genichirou, did you ever want to take the place of buchou when I was away?"

Sanada let go of Yukimura at that and glared at Yukimura disbelievingly. "Yukimura," he said seriously, "if I wanted to takeover, I would have had hundreds of chances to do that. I remained fukubuchou even though I could have become buchou easily. Of course, you could beat me to a pulp in seconds, but I had a lot of chances to become Rikkai's buchou if I wanted to."

Yukimura raised his eyebrows; he knew about the doubt of his ability, but had never questioned the loyalty of his fukubuchou. "So, when did these _chances_ happen?" Yukimura asked, displeasure lurking below his seemingly casual tone.

"When we entered our third year of junior high," Sanada answered honestly, "and as custom, everyone had to enter the ranking tournament for the position of buchou and fukubuchou."

"So?"

"Well, since I came first in the tournament, obviously, I was to become buchou. But, I refused, taking the position of fukubuchou."

"Wouldn't someone else be buchou then?"

Sanada shook his head. "I challenged everyone who wanted to take the position of buchou."

Yukimura smiled bitterly. "Why, Sanada, why? I don't deserve to be buchou and I don't deserve your loyalty." He paused and took a deep breath in an attempt to control himself, but his emotions raged out of control. "The one who should be buchou is you. Why didn't you? WHY DIDN'T YOU, BAKA?"

"Because you're stronger."

"You're an idiot! Why are you always like this, always so loyal to me, always so willing to follow me?" Yukimura began what seemed to be the beginning of a never-ending list of questions, demanding the reason behind Sanada's loyalty.

But a butterfly kiss fluttered across his lips softly and stopped his words. Yukimura could feel Sanada's toned muscles and warmth underneath his shirt as his fukubuchou held him close in a cuddle, and the fury he had wanted to express died down to a flicker.

In the warm embrace, Yukimura could feel his misery being washed away. The suppressed depression he suffered from since the day of his hospitalisation was sucked out of him, slowly but steadily, as they lips joined, kissing each other tenderly. Yukimura leaned forwards and pushed Sanada towards the wall, deepening the kiss. He did not want this to stop, for he feared the return of crushing emotions. He pressed for more, rushing to rid his melancholy, but Sanada pushed him away.

"Sei… Yukimura-buchou," Sanada addressed him formally, much to the distaste and surprise of Yukimura, "we should stop it here."

"Sanada-fukubuchou," Yukimura replied icily, hiding his disappointment, "if I recalled correctly, it was you who started this."

"I feel… that you are using me, Seiichi." Sanada's tone softened.

"I… maybe you're right…" Yukimura hung his head in shame. "But Sanada… are you using me as well? I just… can't seem to read you anymore."

"No, I'm not."

"Then are you just trying to cheer me up?"

"Not really," Sanada looked away from Yukimura, "I did it because of selfish reasons."

"Tell me."

Sanada's face flushed red as he murmured, "it was as if all of a sudden, I just wanted to… touch you."

Yukimura smiled and cupped Sanada's face in his hands. "You have no idea how painful it is to watch you all the time, restraining the aching longing in my heart." He leaned in and caressed the nape of Sanada's neck with his soft lips, moving up slowly towards the other's mouth. Impatiently, he wetted Sanada's lips for him as he ran his hand through his fukubuchou's hair, consumed by passion. Sanada did not refuse the advances, submitting to his buchou obediently; beginning to enjoy Yukimura's fleeting touches. He could feel his body getting hotter, excited as he would be on the tennis courts.

Their bodies entwined, lips locked firmly as their chests pressed against each other's. Passion engulfed them, but when they were lying on the bed with sweat drenching their foreheads, rational subconsciousness brought them to a halt. Sanada sat a few inches from Yukimura, catching his breath, and picked up his shirt from the ground. His captain beside him ran his hand through his hair and dried it with the towel lying on the bed. He pulled his shirt on and retied the knot of his tracksuit pants. Sanada threw his head back, closing his eyes as he did so, drenched in disbelieve in their actions and the pleasure he gained from it. He bit his lips as his body longed for more.

He could tell Yukimura was trying his hardest to control his lust as well. Both boys sat silently, panting, letting their bodies recover from exhaustion. Sanada could feel the desire building up inside him, and it was unbearable, no better than the explosive anger injected into him by defeat. "Sanada." Yukimura was treading on thin ice, his self-control fading away.

Sanada looked at the beautiful, wavy-haired boy sitting beside him. Both of them knew it was wrong, yet the burning desire inside them could not be extinguished. "Ne, let's play tennis." Yukimura finally said, knowing that this was the only way to release them from their aroused state.

They ended up on a street tennis court. After getting rid of everyone in love matches, the two Rikkai leaders stood face to face, gripping onto their racquets tightly. Yukimura served. The ball slammed down the sideline, the speed to inhuman for Sanada's naked eyes to catch it. He served again. This time, Sanada was prepared and returned it cross-court, where Yukimura was expecting him. With a swift backhand, the ball was driven down the line - thirty-love for Yukimura. The game went by quickly and at the blink of an eye, Yukimura had broken Sanada's game as well.

"Sanada," Yukimura hissed, "are you going to play me seriously or what?"

"I am serious." Sanada replied, slightly irritated.

"No, you're not." The serve scrapped past Sanada's face, leaving an angry red mark. "Why aren't you using FuuRinKaInZanRai?"

Sanada, in truth, tried to use Fuu, but Yukimura just punched it back with accuracy and power, taking the point just as quickly as he could say Fuu. Yukimura served and the ball swept across Sanada's hair, as gentle as a lover's caress, but the fierce noise of the air being sliced away made Sanada glad that it missed his head. The seemingly light serve, could have easily gave him concussion for the week, disabling him or giving him brain damage.

On the other side of the court, Yukimura was getting increasingly frustrated. He had taken four games consecutively and when Sanada missed an _easy_ volley, Yukimura made sure his next serve belted straight for Sanada's stomach. His fukubuchou collapsed in pain, clutching his shirt tightly, and then he stood up, gripping his racquet so firmly that his fingers were numb. Sanada glared at Yukimura, bent his knees and prepared to receive. At that moment, something in Sanada's eyes changed. There was something brilliant and divine gleamed in the dark brown orbs. Slowly, the golden radiance spread, outlining his silhouette, until blinding rays of light lit up the night sky. It was the "Pinnacle of Perfection" - the ultimate level in tennis.

Yukimura stared into the unusual shimmer in Sanada's eyes and served, wondering how he could achieve that state without walking via the stepping stones of "Pinnacle of Hard Work" and "Pinnacle of Wisdom" first. The tiny yellow ball came back from Sanada's side of the court and Yukimura moved into position quickly, his racquet already in place to return. The ball, however, felt more like an iron one and knocked Yukimura's racquet away, leaving him stumped on the ground, shocked and awed. But the feeling of admiration turned into jealousy quickly and flashbacks of his match against Echizen rewound at the speed of light in his mind, resentment and fear rushing through his blood.

Everything in his mind was blank. All that existed in Sanada's world was the yellow ball Yukimura was holding onto. He finally understood the Pinnacle of Perfection, remembering the momentary lightning that struck his mind when he had let go of all thoughts of victory, loss or worries. The ball that thwacked his stomach painfully triggered the most important step for the accomplishment of the Pinnacle of Perfection: To let go of everything, and to return the ball - that was the basis of tennis and the last step towards the Pinnacle of Perfection. As Sanada smashed the ball, winning the match, he comprehended the reason as to why Yukimura was having such troubles in taking the last step.

His buchou was gazing at him, with appreciation, respect and covetousness. Sanada sighed. Yukimura's perfect tennis was precisely his downfall. He was too close to the Pinnacle of Perfection. His tennis was already god-like and the lack of distance and room for the leap marked his downfall. His flawless tennis prevented him, pulled him back from the peak. Sanada knew that if Yukimura wanted to attain the state of perfection, he would have to let go of his thoughts and emotions.

"Sanada," Yukimura shook Sanada's hand, "congratulations."

Sanada muttered his thanks, but Yukimura continued. "This is the first time you've beaten me, right? I'm glad you've achieved that level, although I must admit I feel quite envious."

"Yukimura..." Sanada was at a loss for words. He was amazed and euphoric that he had reached the pinnacle, but on the other hand, any action suggesting his ecstasy would be dangerous, considering Yukimura's fragile emotional state at the present.

"Sanada, don't worry." Yukimura bluntly cut his fukubuchou off, seemingly reading Sanada's thoughts. "I will achieve the Pinnacle of Perfection soon as well, and with our abilities, we will climb onto the apex, reclaim our throne as the Rikkai kings."

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Please review. The epilogue is coming VERY SOON!!


	5. 1095 days later

**A Prince of Tennis fanfic.  
SanaYuki pairing.**

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi.

**Author's note:** Finally finished. I know it's short, but it's the epilogue, so it shouldn't be that long... I'm gonna miss this story. ENJOY... it's the last part of 1L of tears!!

**And... reviews please! It's the last chapter, so please review!**

_**/NOTE:**_ Just wanted to say... that 1095 days are 3 years exactly. The reason I did not put 1096, assuming that it's a leap year is because if I let the national finals be in 2008, the 29th of Feb (Fuji's bday) has already passed... hence the 1095 days.

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**Epilogue – 1095 days later**

Yukimura's silent promise to reach the Pinnacle of Perfection was never fulfilled. He was only a fingertip away, but for him, it was a barrier that cannot be overcame.

"Next is the national's final, Singles 1.

From Kanagawa's Rikkai Dai Fuzoku - Yukimura Seiichi.

From Tokyo's Seishun Gakuen - Echizen Ryoma."

The atmosphere tensed as the two stepped onto the courts, silent and lethal. Echizen's body radiated with white light - the Pinnacle of Perfection. His expression was cocky as always, although a more mature air surrounded him and his height had grown considerably. When he stood in front of Yukimura at the net, he was only an inch or so shorter. His eyes gleamed unnaturally like diamonds under the sun and his hair, flapping wildly in the breeze, juxtaposing the steadiness of which he held his racquet. Yukimura raised his hand and adjusted his headband. His wavy-hair was slightly longer now, gathered and tied by an elastic band so it wouldn't create a distraction. Gazing at his newly strung Yonex racquet, confidence shot up inside him, impatient to be exposed.

"Ah, it's Rikkai's buchou-san again." Echizen raised his eyebrows.

"Nostalgic, isn't it?" Yukimura smiled warmly, a dagger prowling behind the honey sweetness, waiting for his opponent to drop his guard and the opportunity to pounce. "I believe you would have won 7 junior US open titles by now. It's a shame though that you can't enter anymore."

"I'll be entering the actual US open."

"That is, if you can get in." The same smile still hung on Yukimura's lips.

"Let's not talk about unnecessary things," Echizen turned away, "please teach me well, child of god-san."

"I'm just Yukimura." A slight chuckle escaped his lips as he strode to the baseline, his eyes focusing on the ball in Echizen's hand.

And 43 minutes and 19 seconds later, the match ended seven games to six - in Yukimura's favour. Neither of them backed off in their serving games, but the Pinnacle of Perfection took its toll on Echizen during the tiebreaker. His strength ran out, and Yukimura decimated him 7-0, winning the match, the national's final with a beautiful ace.

Exactly 1,095 days had passed since the day Yukimura was defeated by Echizen. During these 1,095 days, Yukimura trained tirelessly, aiming for the crown at the nationals. To overcome his inability to achieve the Pinnacle of Perfection, he instead established a way to defeat it.

As he raised the trophy into the air, Yukimura turned to look at his fukubuchou. Sanada was holding up the plague, a smile appearing as he caught Yukimura's glance. Both of them knew, that without each other, the crown would have been impossible. As even though they had won the past two years, Echizen and Tezuka had returned especially for this year's nationals. Sanada's Pinnacle of Perfection had allowed Yukimura to devise a way to break it, and to regain his reputation as the best.

"Thank you, Sanada."

1,095 days after the crushing loss, Yukimura Seiichi, captain of Rikkai Dai Fuzoku's tennis team, rose to become number one again.

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For those of you who are mystified, angered or whatever by Echizen's 7 junior US open, there is a reason behind it. Before his freshman year at Seigaku, he had already won four. So assuming he went on to play every single year, he would have won 7. I know it's impossible in real life, but it's only a fanfiction. Even I don't like the idea of it. But he _is_ supposed to be strong... and it's a way to show that. Sorry, and please ignore it if it annoys you.

Please review. I would really like some since this is the last part of 1L of tears.

**Thank you for reading 1L of tears.**

I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I have writing it.


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